"Racial Tension"
Elite home world: Dorenth
Capital City of Jogrennilee
The High Council chamber; "Well of Honored Souls"
"This Covenant has not been disgraced!" The Prophet High Council Member stated sharply to the council. His voice echoed across the massive room so that all could hear. "The Arbiter is lying, in a feeble attempt to take command and divide the fleet."
"Then explain why the Hierarchs have yet to speak." An elite member of the High council returned. This clearly caught the Prophet off guard and he turned to his peers, speaking only so that only they could here him. The Elite stepped away from the podium to consult with the other High Council Members of Elites. He was the high elder, and spoke on behalf of his council. Age, wisdom and numerous battle garnered him this position and he was a worthy leader.
He leaned closer to his kin and spoke softly, "This is pathetic. They clearly have no clue as to what is happening with the Hierarchs. This smells of a false. They mean to deceive us even more then they already have."
"I say we toss aside this frail tarp, and slaughter every single one of those pathetic Prophets." An elite stated from the rear of the group, four rows up in the stadium style seating. "This is our world, our home, and they dare to bring this mockery of an excuse to the council! I will not stand for it!"
The high elder elite waived his hand in soothing fashion toward the angry elite. "Calm yourself brother." He looked over the group of High Council Elites sitting before him and then turned to face the Prophets on the other side. He looked back to his brothers and could see the blood and fury in their eyes. The Prophets have never revealed the truth and even now they seem to be keeping secrets. He rubbed his brow with his left hand and massaged the scar that crossed his forehead, and recalled the many battles he had experienced in his youth, all for the sake of the Covenant. "I have but one more question for these cowards. And then we shall see what our next action shall be, but do not forget, the Brutes are waiting outside of the council chambers. If we start trouble we will have to face them." The group of elite councilors nodded their heads, but each jostled at their energy swords; itching to put them to use. The high elder turned to the podium and glared at the Prophets as they continued to talk amongst themselves.
The high elder stepped to the podium and gazed across the chamber floor toward the opposing side, where the prophets sat and whispered. "We have waited long enough for you to create a lie. Where are the Hierarchs? Surely their wisdom wouldn't allow for the Arbiter to speak… uncontested." The Prophet stepped forward, clearly annoyed and nervous as he fidgeted with the amplifier controls.
"As you know, Regret was killed by the Demon." The Prophet slowly stated, as if to buy himself some time. Every elite across from the prophets could sense his hesitation and his fear. The prophets were up to something. "This prompted the Hierarchs to take drastic measures by placing the brutes as the Royal Honor Guards." The Elder Elite turned to his kin and spoke softly to one of them. He turned back and faced the Prophet who was still speaking slowly. "Since then we have not heard any word from the Prophets of Mercy and Truth." The side door to the chamber opened and in walked several brutes, armed and looking directly to the elites side of the Council Chambers.
The high elder elite looked to the brutes in protest. "What is this? You know the policy, Prophet. This meeting is for the High Council only." Quickly the elite behind the elder jumped up and raced from the seating area and opened the side door to the chamber. Soon twenty five Elites stormed in, each wearing a purple bar upon their shoulder. "Remove these brutes from the Council Chamber, Prophet, or you will be in contempt of this meeting!" The prophets had been stalling for time, waiting for the brutes to enter the chamber in a massive number.
"It is you that is in contempt, Sangheili! If you stand with the Arbiter, and his forces, then you have separated yourselves from our covenant."
"You would disgrace everything that our ancestors have died to protect?" The high elder gripped the side of the podium, his voice growing deeper and deeper as the elites behind him grew more and more furious. "You have used us, lied to us, and betrayed our trust for the last time, Prophets! We gave you a home amongst our brothers since you had no world of your own! It was us that protected you, and if these brutes will stand at your side, then we shall hunt down all of you and your races and slaughter you like the unjust creatures you are! Never shall you speak our honored names again! To hear the word Sangheili from your tongue is an insult to every elite that has died under your banner!"
The prophet snarled through his ageing lips. "Your Arbiter, our instrument, leads his forces against us! And thusly, you shall all burn at his side! For the Covenant, we shall dispose of you, and during the hour of the Great Journey you shall all be left behind!"
The high elder tossed the podium to the side, ripping it from the floor in his rage. Just as quickly, he freed his energy sword from the slot on his belt. The blade hissed to life as sixty pounds of forged plasma exploded from the hilt. He pounced into the center of the chamber, his robe trailing behind him, and raced across the floor toward the Brutes that protected the Prophets. The single blades of the Mirratord blazed to life in each of the warrior's hands, as they eagerly ran ahead of the high elder to ensure that he would not fall to the brutes.
With twenty five members of the Mirratord at his side, and twelve council members pulling up the rear, the High Council of Elites would not rest until the heads of the prophets rolled at their feet. The Well of Honor Souls rumbled with the battle cry of elite and brute warriors, and for the first time since the grunt rebellion, blood soaked its marble floors.
- - - - - - - -
The lights flickered on and Ship Master Timnaldee stood to his feet. The Knight and Piercing Arrow had just tumbled through slip space, however they had survived. He assisted elder Samyealee, and looked to his command crew.
"Report." Timnaldee commanded.
"Systems returning to normal."
"Engineering reporting that all downed systems will be back to normal within the hour. However, the slip space engine will need further work."
"The Arbiter's team is on board, captain. They want to know when we can begin our journey to the Ark." The Captain looked perplexed; he was confused as to how they survival such an intense ride in slip space.
"First off, what is the status of that AI?" The captain demanded.
"I'm function fine, thank you for asking." Cortana softly stated through the command Deck intercom. "But I assume you have more pressing questions. Basically, I'm with Arbiter, and from what I can see, I just saved all of your lives, so a little patience is in order while I check this ships systems." Cortana paused for what seemed like ten seconds, and then quickly opened up a view screen of the Landing Deck. On the screen was the Arbiter, the Spec Ops Commander, two humans, several Grunts, Palab and Simyaldee.
"Commander Keys, Arbiter, this ship is dead in the water for at least several hours." Cortana stated to both the Landing Deck Crew and the Command Crew. "I advise we find another ride. The slip space drive has a massive rupture that will take time to repair."
"Very well, construct." The Arbiter stated on the view screen.
"I've asked you to not call me that." Cortana sighed. "Nobody seems to care about my feelings anymore."
"Don't worry, Cortana." Sergeant Johnson stated. "As many times as you've save my neck, you know I love ya."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Sergeant." Cortana chuckled. "The rest of the fleet, if you'd call it that, is just beyond sensor range, Arbiter. Under normal propulsion we can rendezvous with them in five minutes."
The Arbiter nodded. "Captain, we can not wait. We have already lost much time. We will venture to another ship and proceed with the fleet to the Ark."
"I understand Arbiter." The Captain replied. "I ask your permission to take another course of action, once our systems have been repaired."
"What might that be, Captain?" The Arbiter asked.
"A situation that, I can not explain, has taken place onboard. We will need to venture to our home world. All I know is that hopefully we can add the grunts to our Alliance, officially, as supposed to how they have been forced into our group now. We must go and speak with the high council, and also to fully alert them of the situation here on the front lines." Elder Samyealee was somewhat surprised by the Captain's wording, but it was a very clear way of presenting it to the Arbiter.
The Arbiter cast his eyes downward in thought, but then returned his gaze to the view screen. "Very well, Captain. It is possible that this treachery has spread to our home. But we will need you to spare any able bodied soldiers. I'm sorry, but I must leave you with only a skeleton crew, and the High Council."
Cortana suddenly interrupted. "Just a second, Arbiter. Captain, there are several Brutes on board, lower level, I've sealed them off and trapped them in the lower compartments. They won't bother you for a while, but I'm sure they'll find a way to blast those doors down."
Timnaldee looked to the view screen, "Simyaldee."
"Already ahead of you captain." Simyaldee replied. He turned to the pack of grunts at his side. "Sergeant Palab, you and your team with me." Simyaldee and his men, along with Palab and his team, quickly scurried out of the Landing Deck. But not before the Arbiter took notice of how swiftly the grunts were running; almost passing the elites.
The Arbiter curiously turned to the Spec Ops commander. "Did he say, Sergeant Palab?"
Awkwardly, the Commander rubbed his jaw as he smirked. "That was my doing, Arbiter. It's a long story, and one that I can fill you in on as we depart." He motioned to a nearby Phantom and the group started walking toward it.
Commander Keyes folded her arms as she began to fallow the elites. "Cortana, you can assist in the ship repairs for as long as you can, but don't get left behind." Johnson began to follow the elites that were going after the trapped brutes but Commander Keyes gave him a quick stare. He understood the gaze, realizing that she didn't want him getting involved. Johnson sighed heavily, shouted something obscene, and returned to the Commander Keyes' side.
"Eye-eye, Commander." Cortana began to monitor and advise the elite repair teams on the best way to fix the slip space engine, and the location of the brute's strike team. With her help the brutes were defeated easily, but her stay onboard the Knight and Piercing Arrow had come to an end. She transferred herself to the Phantom in which the Arbiter, Keys, Johnson, the Spec Ops Commander had boarded, and they disembarked to another ship. Several other Phantoms also departed from the Landing Deck, leaving only a skeleton crew onboard; ten percent of her full compliment.
Things became quiet as the fleet slipped out of the system; leaving the partially crippled Knight and Piercing Arrow to deal with her own future. Several hours passed and the engines slowly hummed to life.
"Captain, all systems are normal." The head engineering Elite stated. "We can depart at anytime." The Captain thought to himself that if the Engineers had been onboard they might have made repairs a lot faster, but for know he could only trust in the Elites trained to maintain the engines.
The captain returned to his calm posture and glared over his command crew. "Helm, set slip space coordinates to the Dorenth. Also, tell the Simyaldee and Sergeant Palab to meet me in my quarters. Alert me if any problems arise." The captain clasped his arms behind his back and left the command platform. As he neared the aft bridge door he passed the group of councilmen. "Elder Samyealee, if you will all come with me. I think we have time to discuss the events of the past few hours."
- - - - - - - -
It was a long journey through slip space to the elite home world, and a great majority of it would be traveling through Covenant controlled space. Even with the fleet attacking Earth, and searching for the Ark, the Covenant's inner colonies were not left defenseless.
Inside the Ship Master's chambers, Captain Timnaldee and his guests sat quietly; each pondering the delicate moment.
The room's intercom buzzed softly, "Captain. We are now entering covenant controlled space."
"Begin silent running." The captain stated into his desk communicator. "Slip space in this area will be heavily monitored, and even our vessel will be tracked. Be sure to stay on course, and do not try to camouflage or mask our trail. Let them think we're just a normal ship. Notify me at once if any ships begin to pursue."
"Yes captain." The navigator replied. The channel went silent and the room was once again quiet. At the door stood one grunt, Etah, and four members of the Mirratord; including Ladme Balmaeda, the father of Doz Yammaeda. In front of the Captain's desk sat Palab, Simyaldee and elder Samyealee of the High Council. Just opposite of the desk, near a window, stood the other four members of the High Council. The lights became a few decibels dimmer, a clear sign to the crew that silent running had been ordered, which meant that talking was to be kept at a minimum.
The Captain didn't expect such a large turnout for this meeting, but considering that his skeleton crew was made up of some of the most important elites within their society, he didn't think too harshly of it. His gaze traveled from his elite brothers, to the tiny grunt that sat across from him. The grunt sat proudly in the presence of such honored elites and did not appear uncomfortable at all. The captain couldn't help but chuckle at the small odd looking creature as it fought the sleep that was trying to overtake him. The captain then noticed the purple bar on his shoulder, the same bar that every elite guard was wearing.
"First off…" The captain softly stated. "… tell me of the Mirratord."
Samyealee cleared his throat. "I am nothing but a council member now. So I will leave that information in the hands of the Mirratord Second; Simyaldee." The captain turned his attention quickly to the elite at his right, the experienced warrior Simyaldee. Palab snapped to attention, fighting his sleep, and listened attentively. He also wanted to know more about the group into which he was just brought into.
"Captain." Simyaldee stated. "Under the leadership of the Special Operations Commander, I am his Second. We serve the High council of Elites as their Right Hand; the hand that works. We are bodyguards, protectors, assassins, peacemakers, murders, and thieves. We do the things that must be done, when talk is no longer an option. We are secret, we are quiet, but we work for the proud honor of the Elites, and for the safety of the Council. We have maintained the balance of elite and prophet power struggle, and we will continue to keep the high council safe."
"I see." The captain stated softly. "So then it was your group that caused the turmoil on Primus; when the prophets wanted to send the brutes to the human colony?" The Captain lowered his eyes waiting for a reply.
"Yes." Samyealee added. "The high council was aware that the prophets were beginning to favor the brutes. We needed to show them that we were still their most trusted allies. Primus gave us an extended stronghold within the Covenant, but the prophets were still looking for a way to cast us down. Nothing could have prevent that."
"It was Primus that I earned the right to become Ship Master. But we are not here to discuss the battles of the past. I wish to know more of the Mirratord. Does the Purple bar indicate your loyalties?"
Simyaldee nodded his head, agreeing to Timnaldee's question. "Yes. The Purple bar, from seen afar is nearly invisible, but stands out when viewed up close. One must earn the title of Mirratord, and only the First and Second can award warriors with this title. There is a training process for the younger members, but mostly we select those of great strength, courage, and skill."
"You say that the Mirratord is the right hand of the High Council of Elites." The Captain stated as he shifted forward into his seat. He began to glare at Palab, who returned the glare without hesitation; not backing down from anyone that showed aggression toward him. "Tell me then. Why is this Grunt given the title of Sergeant and bares the bar of the Mirratord?"
"Captain, you saw his fight in the Landing deck." Samyealee softly added. "Surely you can understand…"
"What I saw is not important. What I want to know is why? Simyaldee, you do understand my question, do you not?" Simyaldee sat quietly for a moment, and then turned to look at Samyealee. The elder nodded his head softly with a sigh, and Simyaldee understood that it was time to tell the truth.
"We believe that Palab is what the Grunts call… a Messiah." Everyone sat quietly as Simyaldee explained. "The grunts have a legend. It spoke of a leader who would free them from our control, and lead them back to their homeland. This, Messiah, would rise up against the elites and lead his grunts on a great journey home. As all of you know, the grunts did rebel many years ago. Their king, who sat upon the council and represented his kin, wished to withdraw from the Covenant. This was not acceptable, and the Prophets ordered his death. Since then the grunts have been without a leader, and thusly obey whatever they are told to do. The Prophets went against the wishes of the Elite High Council." Palab's ears perked up as the Lieutenant spoke of the rebellion. Such information was never allowed for the Grunts to learn. "The details of the Arbiter's encounter was only given to the Hierarchs, but some information was passed on… by other means. It was learned that the king hid most of his fighting potential, and his abilities were much like Sergeant Palab's. He had the ability to naturally lead, and every Grunt followed without regard for their safety."
Samyealee quickly jumped into the conversation, "The grunts have always been a pack society. They are born in litters and maintain close ties to their pack brothers, but despite their cowardly nature at times, they will quickly follow the orders of a strong leader; mainly us elites."
"Until now." Simyaldee continued. "We can not continue controlling the grunts as the prophets have done in the past. It is because of the Grunt Rebellion that most grunts have never seen their home. After the rebellion, the prophets demanded that two breeders be taken from the grunt home world, and they have lived on High Charity for the better part of the war against the humans, and of course other breeders were born and the grunts multiplied greatly, but we are all aware of this. The Prophets wanted to be sure that the seeds of the king would never rise again. According to the records we acquired, there are two signs of the king; retractable spikes on his elbows and higher then normal intelligence."
Samyealee commented, "We wanted to show Palab and his kin, that things are different now that the prophets no longer lead us. Lead by example not control."
"So inducting him and his team into the Mirratord was a show of faith; a union?" The captain questioned.
"Not quite." Samyealee returned. "That was the Second's decision, I'm sure, but the true sign of our Union will come when we reach our home world." Samyealee turned and looked to Palab who was shockingly quiet. The little grunt was listening and taking all of the information in. "When we arrive, it will be up to Palab to rally his Grunts and make the choice to Join with us, or …" Samyealee stopped mid sentence, and thought on how to say the words delicately.
"Or what, elder?" The captain questioned.
"Or leave our alliance." Samyealee replied.
Timnaldee sat up straight and huffed at the idea. "That is much for such a young grunt to carry. What will be your course of action, Sergeant, once we arrive at Dorenth?" All eyes stared toward Palab, and he thought deeply on what to do. He didn't want to be different, a King or a Messiah, he only wanted to help his grunts to get home. Home, the word gave him a quick chill. He wanted it more then anything, to be home, to see the world of the grunts with his own eyes. To help his kindred to reach a world that he had only heard of from the grunts of old. But helping his grunts return home would mean facing the elite council on Dorenth, and meeting with the grunts that live there.
"Right now, me not know." Palab stated to the group. "Me special, me agree, but me not know grunts on elite home world. They not know war, or know brutes, me think. Me need to talk to grunts on elite home planet. Me need to know what they want, and…"
The captain quickly cut across Palab, saying, "Very diplomatic of you, Sergeant. But this is war time. If the brutes defeat us, then the prophets will surely expect your kin to obey them, otherwise your world will end up just as all the other worlds we have been forced to slaughter." The captain stood to his feet and leaned across his desk. "So far, I have seen two sides to you; a brilliant thinker and a blood thirsty killer." Palab felt a shudder take over him as the captain pressed closer. "You killed a brute after they had clearly been defeated and you almost seemed to enjoy slaughtering them." The captain leaned further over his desk, now only a few inches from Palab's face. Palab was getting more and more agitated as the Captain pressed forward. He could feel Timnaldee's anger toward him.
Timnaldee slammed his fist on his desk, "No matter what you have done till this moment, all I see before me is a simple grunt. Show me, grunt. Which are you; a warrior or a leader?" The captain could feel the tension boiling from within Palab, he could feel it as well as see it, but he didn't care. No Grunt deserved anything from an elite.
Palab couldn't sit still. His body was screaming to pounce. His elbows spikes were burning with the desire to be released. Palab's knees began to quiver, not in fear, but because he was holding back his aggression. He gazed deeply at the captain's throat, he could clearly see the veins and he could visualize his elbow slitting them. The captain's eyes were peering at him like a hunter chasing its prey, and Palab wanted his blood; he wanted to kill the captain with every ounce of his being. But the captain's gaze left his. He was looking at something else now. Palab wanted to know what the Captain was looking at and fought the rage that was consuming him. Caution kept his nerves sharp and Palab whipped his eyes to his side but quickly returned to the captain. In a split second, Palab had grasped the site of everything happening to his side, and it instantly brought him back to reality. Had he not been so blinded by his own anger towards the captain, he would have heard the commotion behind him. His aggression passed and he could hear the struggle clearly. Palab leapt from his seat and gazed across the room into the fury driven eyes of his older brother Etah.
Two Mirratord Elites were pinning Etah to the ground and were barely able to contain him. His rage seemed to increase his strength and the elites were slowly loosing their hold. Etah snarled and growled ferociously as he tried to free himself, but the whole time his eyes never left the captain's. Palab knew what it was. It was the same feeling that worked through the other grunts on the Landing Deck. Without saying a word the grunts seemed to almost feel Palab's emotions, and they were feverish over it.
The two elites were losing control of Etah, he was slowly getting free. Etah was desperate to attack the captain, but none of the other elites seemed to want to help stop him, as if they were captivated by the whole scene. One of the Mirratord then gripped his energy sword and powered it to life as a last resort to stop the rabid grunt. The single blade cut through the darkness of the room and Palab screamed to his brother.
"Stop it!" Palab growled in his native tongue and the sound caught them all off guard. None of the elites understood what he had said but they certainly acknowledged it. Etah stopped struggling and slowly began to calm himself; the elite powered down his blade. Palab walked over to his brother and helped him to his feet. Palab could see that the elites were doing everything within their power to stop Etah; they had broken his right arm. "Are you ok?"
"I thought he would hurt you." Etah replied in their native tongue. He grabbed his arm and finally showed a sign that it was hurting him; a single tear of pain bubbled in his eyes. Palab then looked to the Captain, the elder and Simyaldee and to his surprise they were all standing; each gripping the hilt of their energy swords and glaring at them with terrified expressions.
"Scared?" Palab asked the group, speaking in covenant tongue. "Now you see how we feel, but you can kill grunt at will, we no kill you or all grunts suffer. You no like us, and you all use us till now, you scared me take grunts away. We leave, and brutes kill you all. Me answer question, captain, if me leader or warrior? Me neither; me Grunt!" Palab helped Etah, and they both walked to the door. Balmaeda opened it for them. He looked to Palab with a sense of shame. He felt bad for what the captain had done. Clearly the Captain was showing Palab how he felt, and how most elites felt; that a grunt deserved no respect.
"May I be of assistance, Sergeant?" Balmaeda questioned, so that only Palab would here, leaning down to the grunts level.
"No. We not need you help." Palab replied softly. "But let know what Captain and Council do next." Palab and Etah walked from the room. Balmaeda simply smirked and nodded his head; closing the door behind the two grunts. His attention then turned back to the Captain and the Elder, whom were still shocked. They watched as the two grunts left the Captain's room and finally breathed easy.
"Do you feel that, Captain?" Simyaldee questioned. "That is fear. That sound you heard was nothing compared to his battle cry. Even though that was the second time I've heard it, it's still a horrific sound. His voice demands respect, as if a great beast was boiling within him."
"I agree, Simyaldee." The Captain replied. "I don't believe I will tempt the Sergeant in such a way in the future. He did well in controlling himself, but if there were other grunts here, he may not have held back his aggression. We would be dead."
"Now you see, Captain." The elder spoke up; reattaching the hilt of his blade to his belt. "If we do not change our views of the grunts, the grunts will surely change it for us. We are not in the position to fight the Covenant and the grunts. We must work with them, or we will fall."
- - - - - - - -
The battle within the Well of Forgotten Souls spilled into the streets of the Capital City of Jogrennilee. And the brutes were on the retreat. Covenant capital ships were exploding left and right along the landing fields of the City, but some managed to take off. Plasma bursts fired from the weapons along the ship's sides, firing completely at random at various towers and transports.
Word had spread quickly that the brutes had entered the Council Chambers and that blood had been shed. There was no longer any denying that a division had occurred. War had come to the elite home world. Orbital destroyers descended through the clouds towards numerous elite cities and began firing without warning. The elites amassed their armies quickly in retaliation but the prophets were swift.
In orbit, the elites quickly received their commands from the surviving council members, and began to oppose the brutes that shared their ships. Brutes attempted to take over and the battle escalated. Ships exploded as they began ship to ship battles. And soon, transmissions had spread throughout covenant controlled space. Every remaining ship within the Covenant sector rallied to the elite home world; brutes and elites alike. The brutes wanted to finally be rid of the elites, and elites fought for their survival against the brutes, jackals, and drones. Slip Space battles began as ships literally ran into each other as they were headed to the elite home world. Sub space explosions ruptured into normal space and only debris could be seen. The Covenant wanted to maintain control over the inner worlds of the Covenant Empire, but the inner worlds of the Covenant Empire was based primarily within elite controlled space.
The High Council warriors within the council chambers were finally able to hold of the brute aggression. But the prophets escaped to their ships and fled. The streets were still taming with large numbers of the brute aggressors, and the Councilmen and Mirratord warriors went out to face them.
"Elder." An Elite Mirratord soldier stated as the group neared the exit. "You should all remain here, and get to the lower rooms. Brute ships will surely target the council chambers from orbit."
Wounded and exhausted the elite baring the scar on his head, the high elder of the elite council, stepped forward. "We will not hide from those cowards." He talked slowly, gasping for breath. His age was catching up to him and his stamina was not what it once was. "We may be older, but we can still fight." The elder council members that were still alive agreed with a combined roar. "Our task now is to protect our world first, and our safety will come at a later time."
"Very well, elders." The young Mirratord warrior replied. "What is our next action?"
"Under all battle conditions, the females are to report to the Inner Sanctum with our young. They are our future, so we shall venture there and be sure that our future is well protected. Then we shall radio for assistance from the grunt and hunter home worlds. The elite outposts there must be notified at once." The proud warrior slowly fell to a knee, grasping his side.
"Elder!" The young Elite stated as he quickly jogged to his side. "Your wound needs attention." The other members of the council quickly came to his aid.
"There is no time to hover over the wounded!" The high elder shouted. "I will catch up if I can, but you all most go! Our world is under siege! GO!" The elder commanded. He winced in pain as he pushed the younger Mirratord elite away.
"He is correct." Another councilor declared. "Let us go." The group of Mirratord warriors and the council members burst through the door. Before them lay the bodies of elites, brutes and jackals, but the battle in Jogrennilee was not over. The roar of wraiths and hiss of specters could be heard everywhere. Soon a Phantom descended and several red armored elites sprang from its gravity lift. The council members boarded and made their way to the Inner Sanctum of the elite home world.
The elder elite slowly stood to his feet and forced his way through the door of the Council Chambers. For generations the Well of Honored Souls had been a symbol of the elites bond with the Covenant, and now it was nothing more then a lie. Everything it represented had been thrown away. His eyes filled with the tears of the innocent that lay dead before. The brutes and jackals didn't distinguish between the elite young and the females; all were worthy prey.
"What have I brought upon us all? Could I not have found a better way to end our dispute?" The high elder felt the weight of all the deaths that lay before him as if they were his fault. Had he not been so aggressive toward the prophets, had he been more discreet with his anger, the battle may not have happened. The council chamber was not built inside or near a military facility, and the surrounding developments were bustling with the daily activities of the females and young. The lives of the innocent in the area would not have been avoided. He hadn't realized the casualty of what would happen if he drew his sword and opposed the prophets.
A scream caught the elders ears; the scream of a female. It was nearby and he had to find her. He shrugged off his pain and ran in the direction of the scream. He turned the corner and spotted two brutes chasing a female and her young. The young male was a strong runner but he wouldn't leave his mother behind. He found himself constantly stopping to wait for her.
The high elder screamed to them, "Here! Bring the beasts to me!" The young male spotted the elder and a smile sparkled across his face. He instantly recognized the elder, especially by the scar upon his forehead.
"High Elder Barremmee!" He shouted. He turned to his mother and waved her toward him, but he could see that the Brutes were catching up to her. The young child knew his mother wasn't going to make it, and his warrior instincts took over. Elder Barremmee had to run towards them, but the pain in his side could no longer be ignored. His side cramped, his muscles tightened and he collapsed. He gazed up and glared at the young elite as he charged the two brutes to give his mother more time to escape. It was a futile effort and the brutes merely toyed with him. The female stopped and wanted to run to her child's aid, but elder Barremmee was close enough to stop her.
He stepped in front of the female, inhaled, and dashed toward the two Brutes. The pain in his side became excruciating and his vision began to darken, but he pushed himself harder; hoping to save the young elite. The two brutes saw him coming and one of them held the young elite male in his massive hands. The young elite roared as he tried to free himself but the brute effortlessly snapped the young elite's neck. Barremmee roared at the sight and charged the two brutes in a blind rage, but in his weakened condition he couldn't focus. His vision blurred; too much blood lost. His energy sword grew heavy and then all he felt was a massive pressure in his chest. A burning sensation swelled over his body; he realized that he was being hit by plasma fire. His shields were fading fast.
With his last bit of energy he lunged towards the two brutes and shouted back to the female, "Run!" No more words could escape from his mouth as he landed on one of the brutes. He could no longer feel the weight of his plasma sword or the pain in his side, only the cold steel of a brute shot's blade sliding through his chest.
- - - - - - - -
The Knight and Piercing Arrow quickly but quietly sped through Slip Space, deep within covenant controlled space. The communications officer was boringly listening to chatter across the covenant frequencies; listening quietly for any sign that the covenant ships were suspicious of there lone ship. But he overheard something that struck his attention.
"Captain, please pick up frequency 117.83 on the covenant band." The com officer reported to the Ship Master's quarters. The captain had long ago dismissed the Mirratord and the council members, and he was quietly resting.
"What is it?" Timnaldee questioned as has climbed from his pallet and crossed the room.
"Something you should hear." Timnaldee typed in the frequency and brutes could be heard over the channel.
"Curse those elites, they nearly killed the Prophets. Gather all ships and get us to the elite world, now! What? There are more elite ships in the area? Very well, return fire, destroy them all. The elite's world is as good as dead with or without us, our brothers can deal with them ..."
The channel died and the com officer reported, "Forgive me captain, I had to close the frequency. Someone was monitoring, and I didn't want them to track us. What should we do?" The captain was speechless as he contemplated all of his options. The war had reached Dorenth much faster than any of them had thought. What could he do with a crew of only eighty warriors?
"Captain we're receiving a wide band transmission across the Covenant channels." The Com officer added. "It's marked for all Ship Masters. It's coming from… by the Gods, It's coming from Jogrennilee." The captain paused in mid thought.
"Patch me in." Timnaldee ordered.
"This is Councilor Vornaldea to all elite ships and colonies. The Prophets have betrayed our Covenant and have turned the brutes, drones and, jackals against us. Be warned, our homeland is overrun with the traitors. We are at war within the heart of our own home and it appears that the prophets knew this day would come. The brutes and jackals are everywhere, as are the drones. But we are not defenseless. We shall hold our ground and free our home land from these aggressors. All ships, form a defensive grid around our planet, and let none of the Covenant ships near our world…"
The transmission was abrupt and the captain quickly cut in, "What happened?"
"Transmission terminated at the source, Captain." The com officer stated with a heavy rage in his voice. The captain could feel his pain, it was the same pain he himself was feeling, but he new what must be done. The news of war on their home planet was making all of them anxious to get there, and it seemed that they were going fast enough.
Timnaldee walked the short distance to the bridge and climbed to the top of the command pedestal, "Helm, maintain course and double our speed."
"Maintaining course, captain. Speed increased to secondary threshold." The helmsman calmly added. The Captain stood on the center pedestal and looked down to his crew. They were brave, strong and proud. And despite their actions in the past few minutes, he was even more grateful for them. They had maintained their composure, and didn't allow for the news to shake their foundation. His crew had reacted just as he hope they would. He was proud of them all.
"Com, be alert. Our speed after that transmission will surely attract any brute ships in the area. Any ship that comes within sensor range will be considered a threat." The majority of the Covenant fleet was in orbit around the Human's discovered home world, how could they have known that the prophets still had so many remaining resources. Time was now very crucial.
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Palab waddled down the hall and into the grunt barracks. Inside the large cavern like room were forty of his kin and rows of methane tanks. Palab checked his gauges and decided that now was the best time to change his tank. He disconnected the main tank and pulled it out of his armor. His bridge tank could hold up to two minutes of methane, giving him plenty of time to change it. He grabbed a full tank and slid it into his armor. There was a loud hiss and then silence as the gauge went up to full.
Most of the grunts were sleeping and he didn't want to disturb him, so he quietly looked over the room for his team. He then spotted them toward the rear of the room. He walked up to them and sat beside Etah as he was telling the team how he broke his arm. Etah was wearing a strange blue wrap around his arm which aided in the recovery time, and hummed lightly. It also helped deal with the pain.
"Me took on two elites." Etah said in covenant speak as opposed to the loud barks of his own language, because he didn't want to wake the others. "Me almost win, but Palab told elites to stop. He know me hurt them." The group chuckled softly.
"Then how you break arm?" Another of the team questioned.
"Me... uhh, me fall down, after fight." Etah laughed.
"You big liar, Etah." Another grunt laughed. "Etah runaway, hit wall. That how he break arm." The group laughed softly, so they wouldn't wake the other.
"Me not scared, me not lie. You talk all you want, me know what happen. Palab, he see it too, he know."
"Yeah yeah yeah, don't get your pack brother to help you." Another of the grunts added, snickering his words under his methane mask. "You were scared of elites."
"At least elites respect us now." Another member of the team added. "They not think we just grunts anymore, cause of Palab." The group all began to snort and sniff their approvals. "He Messiah. He make things better for all grunts."
"Yeah, elites scared of Palab." Etah stated. "We fight for Palab. We fight cause he leader. He little brother, but he important. Me fight anyone that bothers him."
For the first time, Palab let the words in. He didn't ignore them, or reject them, he simply let it happen. He was beginning to understand now. He was their leader, and the grunts would follow him even if he didn't order them to. This was what it meant to be the leader of the grunts, and it wasn't too bad. His team wasn't treating him any different then they normally did, but it felt as though they were feeding off of his strength. Palab knew that soon they would be arriving at the elite home world, and things would become different. He would have to lead all of the grunts and possibly prove his strength to them, but that there was no need to worry about that now. Palab lowered his head into his lap and quietly drifted off to sleep as the rest of his team of eleven grunts jostled and joked around. For now, Palab was at peace.